


Something to Get Off My Chest

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 03:29:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s got a secret. (Or, the one where everyone learns that Stiles is Derek’s mate before Stiles.) (Like, seriously, literally <i>everyone</i>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something to Get Off My Chest

**Lydia**

“So, I’ve got a question.”

Derek looks over, all wide but hard icy blue eyes and heavily defines cheekbones. He doesn’t answer, not that Lydia needs one to continue talking.

“Why is it that all the rest of the litter scramble to do whatever you say,” and she herself is included in that, but that’s besides the point, “but Stiles fights you at every turn?”

Derek’s jaw sets, hard and unmoving. He returns to his book, determined.

“Is it because he’s a stubborn dumbass? Because I’d believe that, maybe, a little. But honestly he’s such a ‘good kid’ that I don’t see it being a need to rebel. Especially since lying to his dad makes him so unhappy.” Lydia talks and Derek tries not to listen, not that it works. “And I don’t think he does it to purposefully rile you up, not every time.” She hums, mulling over theories. “And even if he did, he’s just a human, so would’ve he have an even stronger urge to do what you say? Since he doesn’t have the strength to actually stand up to you.”

“He does.” Derek bites out.

“What?” Lydia sounds genuinely surprised.

“He has.. the strength. Maybe not physically, but by other means.”

“What, like withholding sex?”

Derek almost grins. “No.”

“Something similar?”

“Maybe.”

Lydia nods, looking at him with gorgeous curious eyes. “Does it have something to do with his position in the pack relating to everyone else?”

“Don’t tell him anything.” Derek snarls, and Lydia raises her hands in defense.

“My lips are sealed.” And with that, she flits away, and Derek knows she’s already figured it all out.

)

**Danny**

“So,” Danny sits on the porch beside Derek as the pups scramble all over each other, nipping and growling. “Stiles doesn’t have to get into the fray?”

“Neither do you.”

“Yeah, but that’s cuz Jackson and I.. you know.”

Derek’s eyes narrow, because he does know.

“And Alison doesn’t have to, she just likes helping when she can.” Danny continues. “But Stiles—doesn’t want to, doesn’t have to..” Danny tilts his head. “Just wondering," he repeats.

Derek groans under his breath, and Danny grins as though that’s answer enough before wandering back to watch the fray from a better angle.

)

**Alison (and Scott)**

“Scott says that Stiles smells.” Alison greets him as they all sit down for coffee in a secluded but nice little coffeeshop.

“Like what?” Derek’s voice actually verges on amused.

“Sex.” Scott wrinkles his nose. “And love. And other stuff that’s gross for me to think about.”

“He’s a young man, that’s normal.” And wow Derek feels old saying that.

“Yeah, but it’s worse right now, like  _so_  much worse.”

“It’s probably—?” Derek starts, but Alison finishes,

“Because of his birthday, right?”

Derek blinks, feeling suspiciously like an owl. “Yes. Probably, because his body is adjusting to oncoming changes, and he’s always too excited, his body is sensing a change and it’s making him even  _more_  ridiculously energetic, which will magnify all his usual scents.”

Alison nods. “So….” And Derek immediately hates where this conversation is headed. “ _Are_  there any big changes coming up?” She sips at her coffee while she waits for an answer, completely content to be manipulative and impossible to hate.

“Possibly.” He snarls, downing his own black coffee.

She grins. “Good, finally.” She sits back, pleased, and maybe Derek feels a little better too. It’s worth it when Scott clues back into the conversation, ten minutes late and too loud when he shouts  _“Oh my god are you serious why do I have to know these things!?”_

)

**Jackson**

Jackson looks at Stiles, who’s sitting beside Derek at the dinner table. Which isn’t unusual, especially since Scott is on Stiles’ other side, and Alison after that, until it comes full circle back to Jackson himself. Yet, there’s something different in the air. It’s their dinner celebrating Stiles’ birthday—the part with the parents attending and subsequently filling them in on the whole debacle was a surprise success—and now it was a quiet, easy pack dinner. Except Jackson was overwhelmed by the scent of a  _loss of control_. Stiles was eighteen now, which could maybe explain it.

Except that the base of the scent wasn’t what Stiles smelled like. Stiles smelled clean, like fresh warm laundry and an unmade bed, he smelled homely and like a caretaker, and he smelled better than Jackson cared to admit.

But no, the scent that the control—or lackthereof—was rooted in definitely wasn’t Stiles. It was stronger, more powerful, a bigger scent that seemed to permeate the whole house and tower over everything and—

Oh.

Jackson blinks and faintly feels a foot kick him in the shin, though he isn’t sure it’s Danny or Derek.

 _Oh_.

He wolfs—ha—down his food to keep from spilling secrets that aren’t his.

)

**Dr. Deaton**

The last person Dr. Deaton expects to see stumbling into his clinic late one evening is Derek Hale. Then he thinks about it for a minute, and decides it’s not the strangest thing that’s happened. “How can I help you Derek?”

“I need..” Derek growls and his hands flex. “I need you to lock me up or sedate me or  _kill me_  because I can’t  _control it_  and I will not  _force him_.”

Dr. Deaton raises an eyebrow. “Stiles? You still haven’t told him?” He isn’t too surprised, and he can’t honestly put all the blame on Derek. There was a lot he wasn’t taught by the time his family died.

“No! Because it should be  _his_  decision, I don’t want the pack or its well being influencing his decision! It isn’t fair to him!”

Dr. Deaton smirks. “The pack will influence his decision no matter what. He’ll always want the pack’s approval, he’ll always need to be careful about who he chooses, because it will always affect the pack.”

Derek groans and collapses into a chair. He runs his tired hands over his exhausted face, “but I don’t want him to feel like he  _has_  to choose me.”

Dr. Deaton stands in front of Derek, and places a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think he needs your help in choosing you, I’m fairly certain he already has.”

)

**Laura and Peter**

Derek blinks into awareness, and snarls before relaxing tentatively. Laura grins down at him, long brown hair falling whispy around her face, her skin thin and lit up like the ghost she is. On the other side of Derek’s bed stands Peter, similar in his lit up ways and smokey appearance. He’s smiling though, like he’s genuinely happy, which is something Derek hasn’t seen in over ten years.

“You’re taking your sweet time, little brother.” Laura says as she sits on the bed.

“What, dying?”

Laura laughs, “telling Stiles the truth.”

Derek scowls and sits up in his bed, leaning against the headboard.

“She’s right, Derek. You aren’t running out of time, per se, but I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if you just  _got on with it_ , already.” Peter sits as well, and both his hand and Laura’s come to pat Derek’s leg. “It isn’t as if he’s going to say no.”

“But—?”

“But nothing,” Laura tells him sternly. “Just do it.”

Derek falls back asleep to the familiarity of their presences, and when he wakes up he isn’t entirely sure whether it was real or simply a dream.

)

**Melissa and John Stilinski-McCall**

“Oh, Derek, it’s so nice of you to have us over.” Melissa hands her jacket to John, who passes her’s and his along to Derek, who hangs them on the coat rack Stiles insisted on buying. “What’s the occasion?”

“Well, first, congratulations, again,” the wedding had been small and private, a few months prior, on the Hale property. “And I hope you had a lovely honeymoon.”

John stares at him, and leans over to Melissa to stage-whisper, “Stiles as right, it is weird when he’s polite.” Melissa laughs and slaps John on the arm.

“Sorry.”

Derek raises a placating hand. “I’m used to it.”

Melissa grins. “I’m sure you are.”

Derek can’t bite back his grin, and motions for them to follow. “I wanted to talk to you about.. Stiles.” They all seat themselves at the table—another Stiles’ pick, since he suddenly became an expert on interior design—and Melissa leans in encouragingly. “I don’t think you’ve missed that there’s a.. a bond between Stiles and I.”

John makes a gruff noise that only a father confronted with his child’s virtue can make.

“And I think it’s only fair that you two, as his father and as someone he considers his mother, understand what that bonds is, and what it means.”

Melissa takes John’s hand. “Of course.”

“Stiles… he doesn’t know it, yet, but…” Derek flushes a light pink. “He’s my mate.”

They nod back at him. “Scott explained to me—about him and Alison. And my first thought was instantly to you two.”

“Why doesn’t he know yet?”

Derek scrubs a hand over his face. “I didn’t want to pressure him into something that he does have a choice in. While I may be forever tied to him, I could never expect the same of him, it wouldn’t be fair.” He sighs, but smiles. “Also, now that I’ve resolved to tell him, I wanted to have your ‘blessing,’ so to speak.”

Melissa sighs, and Derek can feel the maternal love coming off her in waves. “That’s adorable. You’re more romantic than people give you credit for.”

Derek rolls his eyes affectionately.

Melissa claps her hands. “Well, you have mine. You would’ve had it no matter what.”

John stands, and for a brief and terrifying moment Derek is sure he’s going to leave. But instead, he simply puts his hand towards Derek, open for a handshake. Derek stands and returns the grip. “I know you’ll take care of him. You do it now, and I don’t see that changing. Just,” he laughs, “just don’t let him walk all over you  _too_  much.”

Derek grins. “I make no guarantees.”

)

**Stiles. Finally.**

“Derek, seriously dude, I was in my underwear with enough Mountain Dew to kill a small elephant, and I had enough food to feed an army of werewolves, and I was  _planning_  to spend the night vegging out with Netflix and my xBox. Why did you have to call me over here at  _nine o’clock at night_?”

“Aren’t you a little old to be wasting your nights in front of a television?”

“I’m in college, it’s practically a prerequisite.” Stiles returns easily, still looking around for Derek. “Hey, did you get those Glade plug ins I told you to buy? It smells like—?”

“Like the cucumber melon one, yes.” Derek practically appears by his side to take his overcoat. “You said it smelled the best.”

Stiles stares at Derek but hands over his coat. “Yeah, but, I mean, do you like it?”

Derek nods stiffly.

“Okay…” Stiles blinks. “Anyways, don’t avoid the question.” Stiles motions wildly to the hallway. “Why am I here?”

“I have something for you—something to tell you.” Derek says, and Stiles is sure he catches a blush creeping along Derek’s skin. Stiles lets himself be lead into the kitchen, the dimly lit by candles kitchen, where the table is set with a fancy, homemade looking dinner.

“Uh,” Stiles freezes in the doorway. “Is this.. for me?”

“For us.” Derek corrects lightly, moving to pull out the chair for Stiles.

He sits, numb and surprised and unable to properly comprehend this fast enough.

“I know that this.. this may seem sudden.” Derek swallows noisily, and does his best to be smooth. “But I’ve been meaning to do this since you turned eighteen.”

Stiles flushes pink. “You aren’t going to ravish me on top of our dinner, are you? I really don’t want to break this table, it’s such a nice table and it was the last one in stock.”

“No.” Derek smirks. “Not yet, anyways.”

Stiles meeps.

“I’ve known it since everything with Peter went down, when Scott got turned. But I couldn’t, I wouldn’t allow myself to treat you so unfairly when you were _barely_ sixteen. It wasn’t what you would’ve wanted, regardless of what your hormones would’ve said.”

Stiles nods, slowly digging into the food because he’s never full. Not that Derek minds, because that’s why he made plenty.

“I should’ve done it when you were eighteen, but you were finally—finally able to break out into the world. Into college, into your new life that didn’t have to revolve around Pack. I didn’t want to take that from you, either.”

“But now?” Stiles prompts, setting down his fork.

“But now you’ve been out in the world, you’ve seen some,” his voice drops to an unhappy growl, “ _other people_.” He reigns himself in as easily as he can. “I think it’s a safe time to tell you now.”

“Okay, so, shoot.”

“You and I.. we’re.. mates.”

Stiles nods slowly, stops to eat a few bites of the really delicious steak Derek made, and nods some more. Then speaks. “What the actual fuck.” Is all he says, and then he’s eating again.

Derek watches him, nervous and chewing the inside of his lip.

“So. This whole time that I’ve been violently pining over you, for almost the past  _four years_  I’ve been convincing myself that you weren’t into me, or that we could never be together unless I was a wolf, or that you were so unfairly not gay or  _something_  you’ve been pining and pussing out  _just as fucking much_?”

Derek gulps nervously. “Yes?”

Stiles sighs. “I hate you so much. So so so so much.” He sets down his fork again and stands. Derek knows he won’t leave, considering the feelings are very much returned, but still Derek fears rejection. “You are such an idiot, I can’t believe people listen to you and obey your orders and that you’re an _alpha_.” Stiles stands beside his chair and grips the collar of his shirt. “I hate you, you stupid attractive bastard,” Stiles continues mumbling, even as he hauls Derek up to slam their lips together.

Even when they break apart, Stiles is still muttering. But there are some soft _‘I love you’s_  mixed in there, too, which makes it worth it.


End file.
